Just Family
by paynesgrey
Summary: They considered themselves "just family" but it was a horrible excuse. Deathly Hallows compliant. Harry x Hermione. ONESHOT. This will not be continued. Written for a meme prompt.


AN: Written for the A-Z meme, for "Just" requested by yumi_michiyo. Thank you to favoriteyear for helping me look this over. THIS IS A ONESHOT AND WILL NOT BE CONTINUED.

Just Family

Harry remembered the first time.

They were sitting in the library while Ron was at Quidditch practice, and Hermione was testing him for their Charms exam. Harry's thoughts weren't really on Charms, nor tests, or even school.

He was thinking of girls, and though he wasn't normally thinking of girls, they were easier to think about than tests, and even more so, _Ginny_ was better than tests. But Ginny wasn't here – only Hermione, and as her voice filled his ears, he realized how feminine it was underneath the strict, didactic coarseness.

Suddenly, he was looking at her face and noticing the softness of her skin and how her lips were pinker than he had ever noticed.

"Are you paying attention, Harry?" she sounded annoyed, and even in that Harry sensed the femininity.

"Of course," he said.

"I don't believe you," she said, shaking her head.

"Hermione…" She turned to him, and that was when it happened. Just like that; he wasn't even planning it; he'd never really thought about Hermione _in that way_, but the kiss was over as quickly as he'd done it.

Then, she slapped him on the head. "Nice try, Harry, but you can't get out of Charms that easily." She straightened her back and smoothed her bushy hair, and Harry grinned when he noticed the redness on her cheeks.

--

"Remember that time in the library?" she asked him, years after the fact, but he did remember.

"Yes," he answered, unable to hold back the smirk. For some odd reason, he felt at ease. It must have been the fire whiskey.

"I thought you were trying to get out of studying," she said, and she was looking at him differently, caught in a weird moment between reality and the shadows.

"I was," he said, topping off his whiskey. "What can I say, I was a prat."

"Hrmm," she said, still staring at him. Where the hell was Ron? He was supposed to meet them at this pub two hours ago. It was two hours later, and he was buzzed and Ron's wife was obviously totally pissed.

"I never told Ron," she said with a sigh.

"It was probably a good thing you didn't," Harry said. The pub seemed eerily empty. "You know how he is."

He looked over and saw her expression scrunched in hard contemplation. "What is it?"

Then, her expression changed. "Harry, have you ever wondered…?" She stopped herself. "No, it's silly." She lumbered off the chair toward the ladies' loo, and he watched her as she looked back at him, one quizzical glance after the next.

After about fifteen minutes, Harry became worried. He walked back to the adjoining restrooms in the back of the pub and knocked on the sturdy wooden door of the ladies' bathroom.

"Hermione, you alright in there?"

Suddenly, the door swung open, a hand shot out, and Harry yelped as she dragged him inside, her lips covering his in an instant.

He broke away from her, scared and confused. "What the …?"

"I just had to know," Hermione said. Then, she belched loudly and slumped forward as he caught her, completely passed out.

Harry shook his head. He'd almost forgotten how badly Hermione held her liquor.

--

"I feel like an idiot!" she said, throwing her hands up and pacing around his home – the home that he and Ginny shared. Thankfully, Harry's wife was working late that evening, and he knew for a fact Ron was working late too, knee deep in paperwork.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said gloomily.

"Ha!" she cackled sardonically. Then, she turned to him desperately. "What should we do? Should we tell them? Merlin's beard, Ron's going to flog me!"

"Hermione, please, you weren't yourself. You were sloshed, and as far as I can remember, it didn't happen," Harry said, lifting his chin and giving her a pointed stare.

Hermione relaxed a little, but she looked skeptical. "Alright, we'll just forget about it." Her voice sounded more collected; however, Harry saw something different in her eyes.

He wondered if she was feeling what he was feeling, that something like that – something that had felt that amazing – was going to be hard to forget.

--

The next time they were both sober, but Hermione had come up with a great excuse.

"We're family, so it's alright," she said firmly. To reiterate her point, she kissed him hungrily as she pushed him against the back of the house while Christmas at the Weasley's was going on inside.

They were out back of the house taking the garbage out, and she had caught him smoking a cigar. He guessed by her surprise, she didn't know he did that every once in awhile.

When she kissed him, he tasted squash and pumpkin mixed in with her feminine scent. He relaxed against her, and when she broke away from him, she made a face.

"Blech," she said, and Harry opened his mouth to speak. She fumbled in front of him. "The smoke! I meant the smoke." Harry closed his mouth with a sigh.

"We can't keep doing this, Hermione," he said. She pulled on the lapels of his jacket and nodded.

"I know, but I can't help it," she said. She laughed a little. "Looks like our lives aren't as perfect as they seem."

"Life never is," Harry said moodily. He cracked a rueful smile then and said. "But we're just family."

Hermione laughed and Harry joined her. It sounded ridiculous, but they would use it as long as they could.

--

"This is sick," he said, but his hands weren't listening to him, and he was removing his clothes anyway. Hermione was following his lead.

"Now it's not," she said. "We're not really _family_."

Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn't just kissing anymore. It was hugging, groping, and sneaking away to snake hands within pants and under skirts and shirts.

"That line was never convincing anyway, Hermione, and they wouldn't believe it either," he said.

"You're right. We should stop," she said, and she froze. She stared at him as he stood in his drawers without a shirt. She was down to her underwear and her robe was pooled around her feet. She started to bend down to pick it up, and she continued to lock with his eyes, waiting for the moment he would give in.

He sighed and held out an arm. Who was he kidding? He couldn't stop this either.

"They'll murder us," he said lightly, his hand caressing her arm. She felt good against him, no matter how guilty he felt.

"Harry, I'm sorry," she said, and Hermione started to cry.

"I should have never kissed you in the library," he said regretfully, but Hermione shook her head.

"No, it's not that. Sometimes I think you should have never been my friend," she said.

Harry frowned. "That's rubbish."

"No." Her fingers were over his lips, and he took them inside his mouth, kissing and suckling on them. "I should have never loved you."

"Don't say that. I always needed you," he said. "Still do."

"It's words like that which make it even harder," Hermione said with a snort.

"It's the truth."

In between their words, their bodies had moved them backward, settling them onto his bed, the bed he shared with his wife – whom he still loved, but maybe not as much or maybe not the same.

Hermione straddled him and her hands were in his messy hair. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, and he held her there, tasting her and delving his tongue deep, scared like the other times that this was the last.

She leaned them down, and he held her closer as they nestled together over the messy sheets. She pulled away for a moment and met his eyes.

"You know this will just continue," she said, like it was a prophecy or a curse. In her words he felt magick.

He nodded, kissing her again. "Just stay with me," he said in a whisper, his tone carrying its own magick.

And that was just what she did, for many times, for many years – until the very last moment until they were caught.

END


End file.
